


Ruined Earth

by Anonymous



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Cock & Ball Torture, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Degradation, Humiliation, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Rough Oral Sex, Sexism, Sexualized Beating, Sylvain is 15 btw, Trampling, besides the child abuse going on in this fic, boot kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 16:48:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21274475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: When Sylvain is sent as to squire in another household, he finds the knight’s daughters an irresistable challenge. The knight decides to teach him a lesson he won’t soon forget.





	Ruined Earth

It had taken an astoundingly long time to get the Lady Aranthea out of her very expensive panties, if you counted by the length of time Sylvain’s flirtations normally lasted. But hey, he had a long time, given his parents had sent him to squire to Baron Berstal Santor Mateus over the winter. Sylvain had been showing aptitude for lances that was rare in his family, and since his father was the epitome of a Fortress Knight, he decided it would be best to send him south for the winter to study. The fact that Sylvain was already the same age Glenn was when he became a knight was an irritant to them, and it was that that made them decide to push Sylvain in his education a little harder. More fool them, that just made Sylvain not want to study even more, and there was so much lovely scenery here to distract him. It took Sylvain almost a month to score his first conquest, but given how carefully Sylvain had had to work under the watchful eyes of her parents, Sylvain decided that wasn’t too bad. His courtship of her sister Catriona had taken even longer, though, and Sylvain had started to think it would never happen until she kissed him in the wine closet after dinner, and told him to meet her in the stable at midnight.

It made for a nice frisson as he fucked Aranthea in her room that night, and he spent the hours between feeling quite pleased with how things were going. It would all dissolve in tears and screaming within days, of course, but Sylvain had never minded that part as much as he probably should. Yeah, he was trapped here for the winter, but…what were they going to do, kill him? 

When he reached them, the stables were completely dark, of course. Sylvain slipped in with the ease of someone who’d spent half his childhood around horses and also a lot of time sneaking around. She’d said she’d meet him in the spare feed room at the back, and it didn’t take him long to find it. “At last, we’re alone.” Not his best line, but then given she was already into him enough to sneak in to the horse barn at midnight, he didn’t really need his best effort. And if she wasn’t, eh, that was life.

“So we are.” The deep voice was very much not that of Lady Catriona Verlane Mateus, but that of her father, and the blood in Sylvain’s veins turned to ice. He was profoundly aware of just how easily Lord Berstal could get away with murder right now, and all he could think was how pissed off Miklan would be if Sylvain went and got himself murdered by an angry father a few months after Miklan had finally gotten himself disowned and permanently out of the running for the Gautier inheritance.

Actually, that almost made it worth it. Fuck you, Mom, Dad, and Miklan.

“Lord Berstal! I just woke up with the horrible feeling I had left my horse with a missing shoe, and couldn’t have slept another moment without— Ow.”

Sylvain was not exactly surprised to be thrown into the wall hard enough he thought his nose might be broken, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. “Shut your lying whore mouth unless I tell you to open it. You came into my home, studied under my tutelage, and seduced both my daughters with your lying tongue.” Sylvain’s eyes widened in the dark as he felt large, calloused fingers penetrate his mouth to grasp his tongue and squeeze it hard enough he suddenly realized tongues probably could bruise. “I should just rip it out of you and leave you to choke on it.” Lord Berstal leaned against him, breath whispering against Sylvain’s ear. Sylvain could feel his erection through both their clothing. “You’re lucky I swore an oath to your father to protect and guide you, or you’d be returning to him without these.” One set of steel fingers twisted Sylvain’s tongue, the other his cock, and they muffled Sylvain’s scream. Lord Berstal punched him in the face for it anyway. “I told you to shut your mouth. Stay.”

Sylvain thought about trying to run while Lord Berstal lit a candle, but by the time he’d recovered the breath to do so, Lord Berstal’s attention was back on him and he knew he didn’t have a chance. When he spoke again, his voice was almost gentle as he looked at Sylvain like he wanted to devour him. “It has come to my attention that I have failed you as a teacher. I will remedy this tonight.”

Sylvain looked back at him and said nothing. One thing this man had never had to teach him was to recognize when pain was inescapable.

“Strip.”

Sylvain hesitated. 

“You won’t like the result if I have to make you.”

“Ugh, fine.” Sylvain stripped. As each piece of clothing was removed, Sylvain folded it neatly before putting it into a tidy pile, delaying the inevitable just that little bit longer. Lord Berstal watched him in silence Sylvain recognized well as hungry. Well, the part of Sylvain’s brain that never shut up gibbered, at least the sex promised to be interesting, right? Assuming Sylvain survived it. Although technically he supposed getting murdered during sex was interesting sex.

“It is my job to form this”—a proprietary slap on Sylvain’s ass—“into something befitting a knight. I have tried to do it with honor, but you have shown yourself incapable of honor. Seducing both my daughters, what, did you plan to sleep with my wife next?” Well, if he made it out of here alive, he sure was going to give her a go now. Plenty of older women were happy for a handsome young bit of Crest dick, in Sylvain’s experience. From the way she’d pinched his ass a few times, she’d probably be into it.

Sylvain’s vengeful plans of spite sex were set to the side for now as Lord Berstal continued. “I do not enjoy the alternative, but you have forced me—”

Sylvain didn’t actually mean to laugh. It just came out. Yeah, yeah, Lord Berstal, you just cornered your squire somewhere private and got an erection from hurting him for purely honorable intentions. Sylvain believed him, really.

“You dare laugh?” 

Sylvain tallied up another bruise as he was punched hard enough to put him to the ground. “Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to laugh at your speech.”

“Please, do feel free to share your opinion of it.” Lord Berstal’s voice was dangerous.

Sylvain raised his hands pacifyingly. “No, no, I’m sure you’re not enjoying this at all. Plenty of honorable knights get hard ons from beating up their naked squires. Please, go—”

Sylvain wasn’t entirely surprised to get kicked in the balls for that, but it hurt. Lord Berstal used his booted foot to pin Sylvain to the ground so he could watch, and then, as Sylvain gradually uncurled, let his foot rest threateningly on Sylvain’s dick. Sylvain could feel the treads and he had to admit, it made him nervous.

“You will not speak to me like that again.” 

Sylvain couldn’t stop wondering what would happen if Lord Berstal just…stepped. Would his dick be smushed? Can you heal a smushed dick? That would probably get him in worse trouble with Sylvain’s parents than killing him. It’s one thing to have a dead Crest heir; it’s another thing entirely to have a live Crest heir that can’t carry on the line. 

Lord Berstal laughed. “No wonder you were misbehaving all this time. All you really wanted was someone to put you your place all along, wasn’t it?”

Oh. That had made Sylvain hard. Oh.

...Eh it’s not like Sylvain didn’t know he was fucked up. He decided to grin. “Step on me, Daddy.”

Lord Berstal sighed, and removed his foot. “I am not doing this for your sexual gratification, whore.” When Sylvain had relaxed that minuscule amount, surprised that for once, this didn’t seem to have triggered any violence, that was when Lord Berstal’s boot came crashing back into Sylvain’s balls, and Sylvain was back to writhing on the ground. “I am doing this to teach you a lesson.”

By the time Sylvain could think again, Lord Berstal’s boot was on his chest, this time, as he looked down at him thoughtfully and mused aloud. “It’s going to be harder than I realized. I came to punish a stupid horny teenager who wanted to become a knight, not someone whose goal seems to have been to become a whore all along. It’s a shame your parents have no other heirs; you would have been happiest renting your body out by the hour to whoever wants to degrade it most, wouldn’t you?”

“Heh, guess you caught me,” said Sylvain, still breathing hard. If he’d had the breath, he might have expounded on that, and the ways being a whore seemed preferable to having a Crest to Sylvain, but the tiny shred of his survival instinct combined with the fact that he could still barely breathe from pain kept him silent.

“Hmph.” The boot ground into his chest in a way that left Sylvain whining with pain. “This will take some creativity.” The boot was removed. “Kneel.”

Sylvain was confused enough to not respond for a moment, and the boot came down on Sylvain’s thigh, inches from his dick, grinding hard. “I said, kneel, whore.”

Yeah, okay, Sylvain could take the hint. He dragged himself up to his knees, the new perspective letting him remember that there was more to Lord Berstal than his torturous boot. The knight was still fully dressed in the clothes that Sylvain, absurdly enough, remembered that he had been wearing to train Sylvain with the lance earlier. It was stark, how far they’d gone in from there to here in just a few short hours, and all Sylvain could do was stare at him for a moment, wondering what would come next. 

And then Lord Berstal kicked him back down with a “Face to the ground,” and Sylvain obeyed, listening while Lord Berstal looked for something behind him. Finally, there was a large leather dildo dropped next to Sylvain’s head. “Show me what a good whore you should have been.”

Oh. Huh. Sylvain looked at it for a moment. He was a lot less experienced with men than he was with women. He had sucked dick before, but it wasn’t something he’d say he had a lot of experience with, and he’d definitely never sucked a dildo. He decided to start with kissing the tip, then licking around it, not really sure but at the point where he was at least trying to please.

“You kiss it like you think you’re its lover.” Sylvain’s legs were nudged apart, and the boot pressed threateningly once more to Sylvain’s balls, and Sylvain whimpered. He would really like the kick Sylvain in the balls portion of the evening to be done with already. “Suck it like you’re a two gold whore you want so badly to be.”

Sylvain did his best, opening his lips, taking it into his mouth, and bobbing up and down. It was bigger than any cock he’d sucked, and he couldn’t take more than a few inches before he started to gag. “I told you to suck it, whore.” He felt a foot on his head, pushing him down, down, until he was far past what he thought he could take and into the point where he wasn’t sure whether he was going to choke or vomit first. 

“Better,” said Lord Berstal, raising his foot. Sylvain had to raise his head to cough and gasp, but he saw that Lord Berstal was glaring at him, and that was enough to bring his head back down to start trying to deep throat it again in a hurry. He couldn’t get it as deep as when Lord Berstal stepped on him, but he was getting it a lot deeper than he started, and he hoped that Lord Berstal would accept that.

“If you let that dildo leave your mouth, I’ll kick you in the balls.” Lord Berstal had barely finished that sentence before he started kicking Sylvain’s ass. Literally. Each blow was hard enough that Sylvain had to struggle to keep his mouth on the dildo, but he was very invested in not getting kicked in the balls. Any thought of actually sucking it was dropped, until Lord Berstal apparently got bored of that and shoved his head down again. “Get that dildo down your throat, whore.” 

Fuck. Sylvain tried, but once he started actually trying to bob his head up and down while Lord Berstal kept kicking him, it was only a matter of time before one of the kicks knocked him off it. The kick to his balls followed almost immediately and Sylvain collapsed to the ground, writhing.

Lord Berstal grabbed him by the hair, and shoved his head back to the dildo. “Back to work, whore. If you want so badly to be nothing but a dick and a set of holes to be fucked, I’m going to show you exactly what you’re asking for.”

Sylvain couldn’t stop himself from whimpering as he sucked the dildo and he hated it. He knew it was only a matter of time before the force of Lord Berstal’s kicks forced him off it, and he’d get kicked in the balls again—

—and again—

—and again.

It was only when Sylvain couldn’t focus enough to suck on the dildo any more that the kicking stopped, and Sylvain was left to curl on the ground and breathe for a while. Finally, he heard Lord Berstal’s voice. “Look at me.” Sylvain opened eyes he didn’t remember closing, and let them rest unfocused on his torturer. “Have you learned?”

Sylvain could only nod. He wasn’t sure he could speak any more, his throat was as raw as his mind. Unfortunately, Lord Berstal didn’t care. “Tell me what you have learned.”

Fortunately, Lord Berstal was willing to wait as Sylvain tried to force the words out. “I’m…I’m a whore.”

“Good.” For the first time this evening, the fingers in his hair were gentle, and Sylvain saw a slight smile on his lips. “Do you still want to be one?”

Sylvain shook his head frantically. Not to Lord Berstal, anyway. 

“Hmm, I’m starting to think you’re rather well suited to it. You were certainly desperate enough to keep that dildo down your throat once I got you started. Are you sure?” 

Sylvain licked his lips, not sure what Lord Berstal wanted to hear. “Please, Lord Berstal. I don’t—” To his own horror, Sylvain started sobbing. 

Lord Berstal watched him, and even half-hysterical from pain, Sylvain recognized and hated his satisfaction.

“Perhaps you are ready not to be a whore, and to learn to keep your filthy whorish dick away from my daughters.” Please oh please. “But I would be failing in my duty to you and to them not to finish this.” Fuck.

Lord Berstal finally unbuckled his pants, releasing his cock. It was hard — Sylvain knew it had probably been hard for ages, from watching Sylvain’s suffering. It was, at least, smaller than the dildo, Sylvain took a tiny petty joy in thinking. “I think it’s time you thank me for all the work I’ve put into teaching you, don’t you?”

“Thank you for teaching me,” said Sylvain. He didn’t even have the energy to hate him for it, at this point. He just opened his mouth and started going for it—

—But Lord Berstal pushed him back. “Ask more nicely.”

“Please, let me thank you for teaching me by sucking your cock?”

“And why do you want to thank me that way?”

“Because I’m a whore?”

“Good.” Lord Berstal yanked him forward. “Show me how good a whore you can be.”

At least Sylvain now had plenty of practice deep throating, and his cock was far gentler on Sylvain’s throat than the dildo had become. It was the easiest thing tonight to go all the way down, and start bobbing up and down, and Sylvain watched Lord Berstal for his reaction carefully, waiting for the anger.

But there wasn’t any for now. And in the little corner of Sylvain’s mind that never stopped looking for the way the people around him were trying to use him knew that was as much manipulation as anything else that had gone on, and hated Lord Berstal for making Sylvain sucking his cock the best part of Sylvain’s night.

When he came, he pushed Sylvain’s head onto his cock, and came as far down Sylvain’s throat as his cock could reach. “Good whore. Now, thank me for my come.”

It took Sylvain a moment to finish swallowing and take a breath before responding. “Thank you for your come.”

“Do you still want to come? To dump your filthy come in one of my daughters?”

“No! No I don’t.” 

“Are you saying my daughters aren’t attractive?”

“What, no, I just—” What did Lord Berstal want?

Lord Berstal stepped again on Sylvain’s dick, which was completely soft. He didn’t put any weight down, content, for now, to trap Sylvain’s dick between his boot and the floor. “I’ll show you the only acceptable way for a whore like you to come. Humping my shoe.”

What. 

“We aren’t done until you do this,” said Lord Berstal. “You spend all day every day looking for a woman that’s willing to spread her legs for a whore like you and let you make her cunt as filthy as your dick.” He ground down enough to make Sylvain whimper. “I can’t say I care if you do that to a slut, but once you thought you had the right to fuck my daughters—”

“—I’m sorry I’m sorry _I’msorry_—”

“—Is the time I put you in your place. You don’t deserve a woman’s cunt. You don’t deserve a warm mouth or a clever hand. You don’t deserve some slut lying about oh your cock fills her up so good just because you’re a whore who happened to be born with a Crest.” Even in a situation like this, that made Sylvain stiffen. “A boot is as much as you deserve, and you’re going to learn tonight to get off on it.” He finally raised his boot that critical inch that meant the difference between pain and the threat of pain, and Sylvain sagged with relief. “So get to fucking the only way you deserve.”

Sylvain did, and kind of hated how easy it was for him to get hard like this. Sylvain was pretty sure he’d been physically hurt worse; he was definitely going to have to break out the vulneraries because there was no way he was going to the House’s healer for this, but Sylvain knew intimately the difference between someone beating him for entertainment and someone beating him with the intention of serious injury, and tonight had been the former. But there was so much pain everywhere that he was surprised he could think of anything but that.

But hell, Sylvain’d known he was too easy since before he’d known what sex actually was. It’s just…as his cock thickened and throbbed under his rapist’s boot, he’d never realized just how easy he actually was. It was easy to flip through his mental book of tits and cunts and asses and dicks, easy to flip through the past sneers and the slaps and the fury and the contempt that had ended his sexual relationships and remember that curl of satisfaction in his belly that had usually been better than the actual sex, easy to fuck the boot in front of him just like he’d fucked the mouths and cunts and asses of all the girls and boys he’d taught to hate him in the end.

Maybe Lord Berstal was right.

There wasn’t much pleasure when he came; it was more a relief than anything else. Finally it was over, finally Sylvain could—

“Lick it clean.”

Sylvain didn’t even hesitate, and even when the come had been cleaned, he kept licking, as long as Lord Berstal failed to stop him, licking until the dirt was gone, until the boot beneath his tongue shone wet. All he wanted at this point was for Lord Berstal to pronounce him acceptably punished.

“Good. Don’t make me do this again.” It was the only thing he bothered to say before he abandoned Sylvain just like that, naked and broken on the ground.

Two days later, Sylvain fucked his wife. Three days later, Lord Berstal found out.


End file.
